So, in commemoration of D-Day, I can’t really tell you stories about my family’s experiences during the war, as neither of my grandparents served (one was already 42, and the other had a “critical to the war effort” job stateside). I suppose I could tell you stories about my German in-laws and their experiences during the war, but I’ve already mentioned some of this in passing and the rest will wait ’til later.
But a “facebook friend” of mine, a Frenchwoman who was a high school friend, when her family was here on an expat assignment, has been busy posting about D-Day, including the comment: “D Day WW II 70th anniversary : Forever ever and ever grateful to the men and women who sacrificed their lives for our Freedom.”
And this reminds me of my trip to France, back in grad school, when I stayed in Paris for a week at a hostel with a patisserie on the way to the metro stop. Every day I stopped in for a croissant for breakfast, and, it seems to me I made some kind of a faux pas in making my purchase in clumsy (but not wholly incompetent) French, causing the sales clerk to make some sort of snide comment — and an elderly woman rose to my defense. I’d love to tell you exactly what she said, but, hey, it’s been a good 20 years since then, but the bottom line was that she expressed her gratitude for the Americans now buried in cemeteries on French soil.
So, thank you, Lisa, and thank you, unknown old French lady, on D-Day.
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